


Hey Jo

by tintenklex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Embedded Image, Fanart, Gen, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintenklex/pseuds/tintenklex
Summary: "I want out“, he croaked. "I want out of your story.“The writer blinked, seemingly put off. "What do you mean, you want out?“"You have to kill me.“"Come again?“----------------------------------------------------------------or: Sirius Black pays J.K. Rowling a visit.





	Hey Jo

The writer looked up from her desk, taking in the darkening evening sky. She sighed heartily. The storyline of her fantasy series had been troubling her for weeks now. And no matter how she lined it out – it was still giving her severe headaches.

She knew it had to happen, eventually. She had to sacrifice one of her more important characters. The direction her story was taking on was, after all, not some happily-ever-after. At least not for now. In the long run – sure. But until that was to happen, until the dark side was defeated, death was simply not a topic she would be able to avoid. There was no way she could describe the rise of one of the most evil wizards to power without some major casualties. And yes – that included the demise of someone out of the „inner circle“, as she liked to call her more central characters, as well.

The murder of Cedric Diggory was written already. It marked a turning point in her story. After that, her novel wouldn't be some childrens book anymore. The world she described was growing darker by the minute, and so was Harry. He was going to grow up, to become an adult, and as becomes a good book, that was simply not happening without grief and loss.

Therefore – she would sacrifice him. She had to. Arthur Weasley had to go. It would be an opportunity to mature for Harry. And for Ron, of course. It would make the Golden Trio comprehend that Voldemort would take everything from them if they wouldn't fight. And as she had so far planned to make a seven part series out of her material, they damn better had.

***

The alleged mass-murderer Sirius Black straddled his motorcycle and looked wearily at the darkening evening sky. "Boy“, he thought while he swiped the long strands of black hair out of his face, „you got this“. He had turned it over and over in his head. It was his best option. Maybe his only option. That miserable existence Dumbledore had the gall to call a life had to stop. He would vegetate away no longer. Sitting around uselessly in that shithole of a house. No.

He started his motorbike and roared off into the sky. Rule-breaking had always given him some sort of adrenaline kick, but this time, the neuronal reward was especially exquisite. "It's too dangerous“, the old, white-haired man had rounded in that prophetic voice of his. "It's too dangerous to go outside, Sirius.“ Well, fuck dangerous. Fuck Dumbledore. He floored the accelerator and was repaid instantly by a magnificent roar of his machine. After all – what was life without a little risk?

***

"Uuuupphhh.“ The writer stretched in her seat. That last paragraph she'd written had been especially tricky. Time to get some tea.

She got up and strolled into the kitchen. Technically, she knew that tea after six wasn't a good idea, but this particular last part had been so hair-raising, she deserved herself some treat.

Just as she put on the kettle, she could hear a low rumbling in the distance. What was that – thunder? She frowned at the sky. Strange. It didn't look like a storm. She grabbed the "black gun powder"-box out of the cupboard and continued to prepare her tea as another sound, sharper and closer this time, made her start. That sounded like – no, it couldn't be. Another roar erupted nearby, and the box almost slipped from her hands. She gasped. This massive idiot! He couldn't – he wouldn't … !

She ran back to her study. Her house was secured with all sorts of warning devices. The police would be informed immediately, and what would they say if they found one of her supposedly fictional characters in hER HOUSE?

She dashed into her bureau, where a cloaked man with long hair was already letting himself in through the terrace door. "Hey Jo“, he greeted casually, as if his visit was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hey Jo?“ She gasped. _"Hey Jo?_ What the – ? The police will be here any minute!“ She tore at her hair. "I'm a million dollar bestselling author! This house is literally a high security wing! You can't just come in here and – !“

The man swung a wooden stick in front of her eyes. "Magic“, he remarked smugly.

"Oh.“ She breathed out heavily. "Right.“

"You know quite little about it considering that you write about us.“ The man teased.

"Panicked“, she remarked through gritted teeth. "And magic or not, Sirius, it's still incredibly reckless of you to come here!“

"So in character, am I?“, the wizard shrugged.

The writer clasped a hand at her face and sighed. "What is it that you want?“

***

The squib had always been close to Dumbledore. Her story was to some respect his story, his version of events – with the necessary alterations, of course. By her novels, she sort of brought wizard history in a dramatic form – and gained millions with it. And although Sirius thought of her as a witty and talented writer, he sometimes couldn't help the thought that she had taken on Dumbledores perspective on said history too soon.

"I want out“, he croaked. "I want out of your story.“

The writer blinked, seemingly put off. "What do you mean, you want out?“

"You have to kill me.“

"Come again?“

He bit his lip and cast her a quick, assessing glance. He sat down on the nearest table and raised his hands.

"Look“, he said. "I've thought long and hard about this. I've had more than enough time to think things through, lately“, he remarked in a bitter tone.

He looked deeply into her eyes. "Muggles read the books in millions. And it's an open secret in the Wizarding World that the top ministry officials look through your work for clues.“

The writer gulped. This was a sensitive topic, had been from the start of her writing. The deal she had made back then with the Minister of Magic was to give the proceeds of her book to the Ministry, which had been in big financial problems at the time. The arrangement had made him somewhat generous in regards to her using real incidents of the Wizarding World for her fiction.

"I've you spread the rumours that I have died“, the dark haired man went on, "chances are good people will go with it willingly. The Ministry still searches for me, thanks to your last book. It's an utter disgrace for them that they still haven't found me. Except for the Order and Harry, no one knows where I am.“

His gesturing became lively now, gaining enthusiasm. "If you write about my death, if the Order covers up my tracks, the ministry will only be too happy to jump on the bandwagon and presume me dead! It'd cover one of their greatest failure in years. And don't forget, the ministry is not too popular at the moment. They could do with some positive news.“

"Definitely could“, the writer remarked drily, thinking of the latest corruption affair the Ministry of Magic found itself in.

"Think of it.“ His eyes were gleaming by now. "I could move again. Freely. A little change in my appearance, and no one will know it is me. People tend to see what they believe to be true. Wasn't it you that said it? Up in your first book? That muggles who see magic actually don't understand it is magic, because they don't consider it possible?

Imagine someone will pass me by, on the street. What will they see? A skeleton like, crazy mass murderer? A prominent figure that died? A fictional character out of a childrens book? Or will they just see a man and think 'funny, he looks a bit like Sirius Black'?“ He winked.

The writer was silent for a few moments, collecting her thoughts.

"Actually, I had a love story planned for you“, she pointed out somewhat helplessly.

"Love?“ The man shrugged. "Take Remus for that. He could use it.“

***

The writer looked at the blank page on her laptop. Now, there were some changes to be made. She wouldn't have to sacrifice Arthur Weasley, after all. She felt relieved. Maybe he would be injured in her next novel, to give the story some tension. But he wouldn't be dead. That was good.

Right, she composed herself. Let's do this. A dramatic demise.

What would work for Sirius? A battle? Yes, that was in character. But not yet distinct enough. She thought for a moment, recalling Sirius's visit. He had left with a hopeful look on his face, vanishing through the veil to her terrace.

Vanishing through the veil, she mused. Yes.

And she began to write.

***

A few years later.

A postcard, delivered by a harpy.

From: _S. O. B. (Supposedly Obliterated Black)_

To: _J. K. R. (Jestingly Killing Relator)_

– _Through a veil? Really???_

_No heroic battle with an overpowering opponent, no valiant sacrifice – I simply tripped. After being hit by a spell. From Bellatrix. Well, thank you!_

_Just out of curiosity – what is it with this arch? What did you imagine to lie behind it? Am I even dead, like – properly? Or are you planning to bring me back for future plot points? ;)_

_I hope not, 'cause being dead certainly has its merits..._

_Take care! - Padfoot  
_

**Author's Note:**

> The idea to work with the initials of the characters in the displayed fashion was inspired by the highly recommendable "Of Initials and Postscripts" by LadyAmina and irrationalmoony.


End file.
